


Subliminal

by yuma (yuma_writes)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuma_writes/pseuds/yuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what is said is not what they really meant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subliminal

**Author's Note:**

> My word prompt for the month was 'niece'. (Pausing) As you can see, I went off into a tangent again. Not my usual angst fest, a little silly, but still with my 'only happy endings' rule.

A hungry Banner meant a possibly grumpy Hulk which meant structural damage. _Again._

Ever mindful of his insurance ( _Farmer's Insurance_ had stopped taking his calls), Tony let himself be guilted into coming up for dinner even though he was still running diagnostics. 

Food was consumed (at least he thinks so, no, he's pretty sure a fork went to mouth a few times) and then Tony was herded to the communal living room. There was now some verbal volleying between Clint and Bruce about what movie to play. 

Tony didn't volunteer titles though. He needed to head back to the workshop. The vibration from when he had pushed the suit to go faster today had settled into his bones. He caught himself drumming out a beat on his knee, his tablet, and the couch the entire time Clint argued the merits of watching prequels first no matter how much they sucked.

Ironically, it seemed the only way to keep his fingers still were to keep them moving. Preferably over the sensor array he dissected because, damn it, he needed to fix it.

So, irritated about the interruption and still trying to mentally figure out the density for the shrapnel resistance armor he was creating for the NYPD, Tony automatically muttered, "That's what she said," in response to a conversation he had only been half listening to. 

Predictably, Bruce groaned, Clint snickered, and Natasha exhaled her typical, "Men are too stupid to be tolerated but I will because you have the last Ben & Jerry's Mission to Marzipan ice cream" sigh.

Thor chuckled, because after watching _Wayne's World_ eight god-awful times, he _finally_ got it and Steve—

"Who's 'she'?"

The laugh track around Tony petered into silence. Someone fidgeted noisily on the couch. Another coughed. Tony blinked, his mind mentally stuttering to a halt. His tablet had even stopped scrolling. He lifted his head and stared. "What?"

Across from Tony, Steve was frowning, making the face he made whenever he encountered some modern-aged doohickey that stumped him, or whenever Tony did something he didn't agree with. (Translation: All. The. Time.)

"You keep referring to a 'she,'" Steve went on, and why the hell wasn't anyone else speaking up? Since when had Tony Stark become the docent for the twenty-first century? 

Tony finished parsing his thoughts and uttered a, "What? She?" which wasn't exceptionally brilliant, but he had a legitimate excuse this time. Doom Bots blew up at him today. He was thrown through the New York Post building, both of which pretty much guaranteed him on the outs of their Page Six column until SI fixed their facade or like, _forever_. His armor got chewed up and spit out. He had stumbled through the rest of the battle with dented rotors, mangled electromagnetic joints, and screwed up sensors and he'd missed one stray landmin—

"What," Tony said more loudly than necessary, "are you talking about?"

Steve wasn't deterred by Tony's voice. Hell, he had ignored it fine enough when he'd pulled Tony out of his workshop a few hours before, insisting at least one meal of the day should be eaten with human (or Godly) company. 

"Sometimes, whenever we talk, you keep referring to a 'she,'" Steve continued, eyebrows knitted, eyes wide, like Tony was one of those new smartphones he was still trying to figure out. "I don't get it. Why is that funny?" 

Steve swiveled his head left and right, but when he didn't get a response, he turned back to Tony with a helpless shrug. "Who is 'she' exactly?"

Tony gaped at him. Seriously, did they put it to a vote to elect him as spokesperson for all things post-1940s? 

Thor spoke up. "I, too, have wondered, Anthony, about this wise yet mysterious 'she' you constantly refer to—"

Okay, Thor was no longer his favorite.

"No, no, no, don't you dare." Tony stuck an accusing finger toward Thor. The thunder god appeared cross-eyed looking down at it. "I did not subject myself to hours of Mike Myers for my own amusement. Look," he redirected to Steve, "'she'...it's just...'she' is just—" Crap. Tony defaulted to the only one he knew would help him. "JARVIS?"

_"I do not have enough references to draw a conclusion on the origins of 'she,' sir."_

Son of a bitch.

"You do not have..." Tony braced his forehead with a hand before he gave into the temptation to smack it with his tablet instead. It wouldn't help the pounding behind his eyes. "Three thousand hours creating you, J..."

_"And I am most appreciative, sir."_

"Don't blame JARVIS," Steve chided him. "How would he know whom you're referring to—"

The tablet nearly flew out of Tony's hand when he gestured to Steve. "There isn't a 'whom' anything!" 

Steve scratched his chin. "Were you referring to a teacher? A mentor?"

"A mentor?" Clint chortled. He lifted his head up from the nest of throw pillows he was hogging on the adjacent couch. "You mean there's someone we can blame for him?" He pretended to bat his eyes at Tony when he flipped him a wordless response.

Of course when Captain America fixated on something, he gave it his good old American, spangled all. 

"A friend?" Steve persisted. "Maybe Miss Potts? A niece?"

"Niece?" sputtered Clint. "You mean there's another Stark running around _spawning_?" He cupped a hand to his ear. "Wait. You hear that? It's the universe imploding." He ducked a throw pillow and bared a smirk at Tony. "Missed me. We need to work on your aim there." 

Tony scowled. Not everyone had sniper aim. 

Tony waved both hands (one still holding the tablet) at Steve. "Look. It's not...no teacher. No Pepper. No little mini Starks of an avuncular nature!"

"Thank God."

Tony missed getting whiplash when he jabbed a fist toward Clint. "You. Not helping! I'm cutting you off!"

"Of what?" Clint challenged.

"Of...of everything!"

Clint snorted, unimpressed.

"No more upgrades, no more of those freakish barbecue flavored crackers—"

"Hey, those are good!" Clint protested.

"They taste like feet," Bruce muttered from his seat by the window.

"Aye," Thor rumbled.

"Whatever." Tony wasn't going to ask. He glowered at Clint. "I'll lock you out of the Quinjet, showers are going to be _hell_ , Barton. My building! I control land, water, air—"

Clint scoffed. "Air?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "SI has a space program now. _Try me_." 

Clint blanched. That helped quelled Tony's urge to blow something up. Loudly. He sank back into his seat, sore muscles melting into—

"Wait. I still don't understand. If none of those, then who is 'she'?" Steve pressed.

"Beats me," Clint muttered. 

And here came the _Iwanttoblowupsomethingupnownownow_ feeling again.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. This time, it wasn't from the concussion he'd forgotten to tell anyone about. "I...look...it's hard to explain..."

"Oh." Steve suddenly looked like someone canceled Independence Day and accused puppies of being Communists. His shoulders sagged. 

"Was it your mother?" Steve guessed in a lower voice, his eyes round and suspiciously shiny and— _Jesus, do not cry, Rogers_.

Tony's wrists ached vaguely as his hands waved frantically to ward off any emotional cooties being sent his way. 

Thor leaned back.

"No! I—God, stop looking like that—it wasn't my mother. 'She' isn't a real person. It's just a saying!"

Thankfully, Steve stopped making the hangdog face. 

But things didn't improve. 

Steve's brows knitted together. "So the saying means...?"

Maybe he could tinker with the toaster over there in the kitchen. Just a tiny plume of smoke to conceal his getaway from the most ridiculous Twenty Questions Tony had ever been subjected to. And he thought sitting down with _The View_ was painful.

"Nothing. It's just commentary to whatever you sa—It's supposed to be funny!"

That frown didn't go away. Steve's eyebrow arched. "Funny?"

Tony gestured toward Clint. 

The other guy made a face and shrugged."Eh." 

Eh? Tony glowered at him. "You laughed."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Because it's what people expect you to do. It's a punch line you know could be funny, might as well laugh." Clint was non-plussed in the face of Tony's glare. "Don't ask me what it's supposed to mean." He stuck a thumb toward Tony. "Ask him."

Eyes wide, Tony turned back to Steve. "No. Don't ask me." He got up, waited until the room stopped titter tottering (damn Doom Bots), and walked as steadily as he could toward the elevators.

"Are you going back downstairs?" Steve got up. "I'll come with you. I still don't understand. Maybe you could—"

Luckily there was a wall to brace Tony when he spun around on his heels too fast. "Downstairs? No. I was thinking of..." _Shit, think, think, think._ "Bed! I was going to bed!"

Steve looked a little downcast but hell, no, Tony refused to feel guilty. Okay, maybe a little.

"Er...next time?" Tony ventured. Chances are Loki/Doom/monster of the week/aliens would interrupt any possible next time.

Tony did not feel warm and fuzzy when Steve brightened. "Swell."

"Swell," echoed Tony. "So ah...wow, look at the time....gotta go and do some sleep...I mean...sleep. Night." He left (fled), a chorus of "Night"s stalking him.

 

"You guys are assholes."

Steve blinked and looked over his shoulder at Bruce. Steve grinned, shrugging easily as he returned to his seat.

Despite his words, Bruce was smiling, too, as he pulled off his glasses. "I can't believe that worked." He cast his eyes toward the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

_"He is heading to his floor_ ," JARVIS confirmed. 

"He does not appear to be limping anymore," Thor observed.

"Didn't touch his food though," Clint muttered as he sent a throw pillow over to Bruce, who let it bounce off his shoulder. "Thought you said it was his favorite."

Bruce frowned mildly. "It is. Or at least that's what Happy said." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "JARVIS, did he eat anything when he was down there?"

_"Apple slices and a kale smoothie,"_ JARVIS reported. 

"Well, that's something," Steve murmured. Nevertheless, his stomach knotted. He had been certain Tony was going to have one of his bots throw Steve out when he came down to the workshop. But Steve was getting tired of hearing Tony muttering about him being "busy" and how he "needed to fix this."

"I'll bring him some toast later," Steve decided. "Someone needs to check on him every few hours."

"I volunteer Steve," Clint piped up.

"His headache?" Natasha spoke up. She had been the first one to notice the squinting when they left debriefing on the Helicarrier. "Does it look better?"

_"Sir does not appear to be experiencing much discomfort_." JARVIS hesitated. _"He is in bed now. Resting comfortably."_

__Steve sagged into the couch. Finally.

" _Although he may experience annoyance later with the screwdriver in his back pocket."_ Another pause. _"And the miniature laser drill in his front pocket."_

Bruce snorted. He levered himself off his seat and headed for the elevators.

"This isn't going to fix everything," Natasha warned. She sounded bored although Steve remembered her eyes tracking Tony during dinner. Tony had been too busy tapping and swiping across his tablet to notice her or the plate piled high with a cheeseburger and fries. "He's not going to wake up the next day as good as he's going to pretend to be."

"No," sighed Steve, "but it's a start."

"I can understand," Thor said as quietly as he could, but the thunder god's voice still vibrated through them. "He was too far away to prevent the tragedy that has fallen on our comrades-in-arms." 

"We all were." Steve's eyes slid away, throat working. 

"He just blames himself," Clint pointed out.

A shadow passed over Thor's features like a storm cloud. "The battle makes you feel responsible for others. And so many of our numbers…Aye." Thor finished with a rumbling sigh.

Five police officers. Steve's jaw tensed. Five too busy ushering and hurrying innocents underground to realize the crushed Doom Bot lolling in the street behind them was still active. Tony in his battered Iron Man suit had realized, shouted into their comms and through external speakers. Steve had seen Iron Man zip across the sky like red and gold lightning. The _boom_ he made as he streaked over his head had rattled windows. Hulk had howled and stomped his feet at the shriek its speed had made.

Still, Iron Man had been too late.

The Doom Bot's metal corpse became a weapon when its self-destruct shredded what remained of the bot and its surroundings.

"It doesn't matter what people tell Stark. Or what he knows," Clint spoke up. He toyed with the butterfly band-aid on his temple until Natasha slapped his hand away. "If he felt like it was his fault, then it was. Nothing we say is going to change his mind.

"He always has to make it difficult for us." Clint groaned dramatically. At everyone's pointed looks, he straightened in his perch. "Uh, not that's ever stopped us before, right?"

Steve nodded. There were more ways to keep their friend from brooding within the bowels of his workshop. And he was certain Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes had ideas as well. Steve smiled to himself. 

"Our brother will be all right," Thor said, unknowingly echoing Steve's thoughts.

"Even if we have to leave Barton in space to do it," Natasha said in a voice that was anything but sweet. "Isn't that right, JARVIS?"

"Hey!"

_"And that,"_ JARVIS said serenely, helpful as always, _"as Sir would say, is what she said."_

Steve tilted his head back and laughed with Thor.

Tony did have a point. 

It _was_ pretty funny.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love goes to Jay and Brate for the look-throughs- again and again and again. I blame Brate for the prompt madness that sucked me into writing Avengers when I was content to just _reading_ Avengers. Sigh...
> 
> As always: feedback are like cookies. I _like_ cookies! LOL.


End file.
